


Aurora

by simplecoffee



Series: Aurora 'Verse [1]
Category: Oblivion (2013)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Chronic Pain, Exhaustion, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: In a new world, Jack Harper wakes up.





	Aurora

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisPolarNoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPolarNoise/gifts).

Technician 21 wakes up. 

He sleeps on the lower levels, now; it's been a year or so since he and Vika decided they weren't working out. They're still an effective team, Sally's inflections and implications aside, and he's scheduled to catch and fix drone 276 today, after she nearly fell to a Scav attack early this morning. 

He listens to Sally's mission briefing over coffee, as usual, and he's preparing the ship for takeoff when he sees the Tet explode.

He staggers back from the launchpad, stays at the tower instead of venturing out; holds Vika through the shock. Ten minutes after the blast, the main console lights up: a fast-moving bogey from over in the radiation zone.

Vika wipes her eyes and resumes her station. Jack checks his weapons, and takes to the air.

* * *

Technician 52 wakes up. His hands are tied loosely behind his back, which is what tells him he hasn't been dreaming. His throat hurts, too, and his ship is gone.

When Vika sends a drone with a bike, he heads to the little palm grove where he's started to build a house. Where he hoped he'd bring her someday, only now he doesn't know if that hope was meant for her at all. Or if that hope was his to begin with, at all.

He clings to the memory of the other woman's face, the other-him's face as he looked at her, because he kind of needs something to cling to. And then he picks up the baseball cap he found in some ruins just weeks ago, and dares to wish.

* * *

Technician 13 wakes up. Morrison is licking his face again, which is adorable but gets very old very fast because who knew kittens' tongues were so _rough?_ And also the sun is shining right into his face, somehow getting right past the giant _tree_ he's been sleeping under. How does that even work?

Vika's back at the tower, trying to make contact with Sally, trying to keep some kind of hope alive. Jack's not sure this is that simple. Things are kind of easier for him without the drones, without a constant read on his location. He's adopted a cat, for instance. She's small and fluffy and all alone - well, not alone any more, she's his, and he's got to get her to stop licking his cheek to wake him up in the morning, because _ow_.

Truth is, he's out exploring the world. He's done some of that in his two years as a drone tech, and now all he wants is more. There may be no one else in it except the other techs, but even they have to be somewhere, and he's going to find at least one of them before he heads back home.

* * *

Technician 18 wakes up.

He blinks at the wall of the drone repair bay for a solid minute before he remembers that's where he is.

So, he's been asleep on the floor, among a whole bunch of tools, and his neck is kinda stiff from sleeping weird. When he sits up, he cracks his head against 109, who whirs in dismay.

\- Wait, she _whirs in dismay_. Which means he somehow managed to get her active last night. Not that he remembers _how_, exactly; he's been in an engineering haze for the better part of two days, which would also help explain why his head hurts.

Anyway, he has a drone online - the only one since the explosion. Now to get her weapons down to non-lethal stun force, or possibly scrap them entirely.

He thinks he's going to call her Fluffy.

* * *

Technician 68 wakes up. He wanders down to the abandoned pool where Phil the toad is waiting to hop up on his shoulder. He wanders back upstairs, with Phil the toad. 

He's been thinking, for a while, of setting out alone. Vika's been acting strangely ever since Sally got shot down, and she won't agree to come along, or even listen to him at all. If he finds something out there to prove his theory, he'll come back and tell her; if he doesn't, he'll...probably find a new theory, that's how these things go. As it is, he's convinced that Sally was a robot, and so are they. Androids - well, not dreaming-of-electric-sheep style androids, not exactly, though wouldn't _that_ be cool. He's a little unnerved by the thought of having an off switch, and he's still trying to figure out how the fact that they need to eat and sleep fits in with the whole robot thing, but he'll get there.

He's pretty sure Phil the toad is real, though. So the Rosen Corporation can suck it.

* * *

Technician 36 wakes up. 

Well, Vika's Technician 36, he guesses, but habits sometimes die hard. She's left him a note this morning, telling him where on the map she'll be; it's been harder to look out for her since the Tet and the drones all crashed at once. She knows it's especially difficult on days like this.

Jack's no stranger to pain, since the accident. It's been nearly three years, and while he's stable on the whole, there are still days when he wakes in tears or drenched in sweat, barely able to move. He thinks he can make it to the wheelchair, today, if he just sleeps a little longer. 

Vika's left him a hoodie and a book, too, bless her. He hopes she finds herself something nice today. He hopes she'll meet someone nice one of these days on one of her explorations; someone who loves their home planet like she does, or can learn. 

God, he hopes he feels well enough in a while to get up and make some coffee.

* * *

Technician 85 wakes up. Vika is pressed against his back, has her arm curled possessively around his waist, her hand tucked underneath his shirt, and he holds his breath as he moves her away.

She doesn't wake, this morning, and he shivers with relief. Shivers again, as he gets up and the cool air hits him; he thinks he might be sick, though he's never sure any more these days, not since a few months from the memory wipe, not since the Tet fell. Not since Scout.

Scout's in her room, awake, but she's not crying. She's learned not to cry, quick on the uptake, quick to condition, just like him - just like him, and he hates it, hates that he's thinking it at all while scooping her up and kissing her forehead, gathering the bag he'd hidden for her weeks ago, willing her not to make a sound as she grabs his shoulder with her little baby hand. If it were just him, he'd stay and take this, keep believing he deserves it, but Scout deserves better, deserves a childhood, deserves a connection to the planet that is her home. Scout deserves to know the Scavs are human, deserves the chance at life that their community has to offer, even though he's never dared to make contact before.

Vika's still asleep this morning, and it's time.

He buckles their child into the passenger seat of the bubble ship, and starts the engine. Watches her stare at the controls with fascination as they come to life, blink steel-grey eyes at him in glee as he chokes on asking if she likes it. He drags his sleeve across his eyes one final time as they lift off, tells himself he'll cry later, and sets their sights forward. 

* * *

Technician 49 wakes up. For a moment of lucidity, he wonders when the last time was that he fell asleep expecting to wake up again.

He still hurts too much to arrive at an answer.

He's been cold, too, for what feels like forever. He tries to draw the blanket closer around him, but moving his right leg sends him into shivers of pain, his hands falling back to his sides as he swallows a sob, trying vainly to be quiet. He can't alert Vika, he _can't_ \- only then he remembers that Vika's dead, that Julia's real and has a voice and a truth of her own, that Commander Harper, too, is dead, and he bears his name but not his rank, not his songs, not his soul.

There's movement in the corner of the room, and Jack would try to reach for a weapon, or turn his head to look, if he weren't in tears of pain again from the simple act of opening his eyes. A figure looms above him, almost hesitant; then a second blanket settles over him, and the stranger draws both covers up to his shoulders. He shuts his eyes when a hand strokes through his hair, gently cups the side of his head, and opens them again when the voice that whispers to him is his own.

"It's okay," 21 says softly. "I'm - I'm sorry that you're hurting. Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I think you do, and - god, you're here, you're safe. You're going to be fine, Jack, I promise. It's okay."


End file.
